Shassie: A Love Story
by ShawnLassiter56
Summary: Shawn didn't believe in love at first sight. That is, until he met Detective Carlton Lassiter of the SBPD. He covered up his feelings by faking a relationship with Juliet O'Hara, Carlton's partner. She agreed to help him because she was a hopeless romantic. Shawn's best friend Gus and his girlfriend Rachael were determined to set Carlton and Shawn up. Chaos ensued...
1. Juliet's in Love With a Russian Mob Boss

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych, unfortunately.**

**Warning: A little bit of language, but nothing earth shattering.**

**Spoilers: Not really, but there are references to Shawn 2.0 that won't make sense unless you've seen it.**

**Main characters: Shawn and Lassie.**

**Please review!**

Juliet sobbed pitifully. She then punched me. Hard.

"Why did you have to chase Declan away? I like him, Shawn, and you had no reason to screw this up!"

I shouldn't have told Declan that Jules was in love with a Russian mob boss. But it went so well with the conversation. I was simply riffing off Gus...

"Hey, Shawn."

"JULIET'S IN LOVE WITH A RUSSIAN MOB BOSS!"

Well, maybe it wasn't really related, but I figured everyone would know it wasn't true and laugh on the inside. But instead, Declan got a crazy look in his eyes, made a lame excuse, and walked away. He was probably in his mansion, weeping with Curt Smith under his giant portrait. Lucky idiot.

"I'm sorry, Jules, but I was kidding. He needs to lighten up!" I said, trying to comfort her.

She stalked away. Lassie kicked me out of the station. I went home to mope about my misfortunes. Yeah, right!

I met Gus at the 5 Corners Café, and sipped on a pineappley explosion of delicious flavor. He was having a rough day too. After the Declan incident, he had done his route. I don't know why he bothered with that "pharmaceutical salesman" crap, but whatevs. Anyway, the Blueberry got a flat tire, and some doc flipped out about the late delivery and reported it to Gus's boss. Gus got scolded, and he doesn't deal with that very well.

"How's the pineapple?" He asked.

"Delicious. I actually met Juliet here 8 years ago. I was 30, and she was 26. She was on a stakeout. I kept trying to distract her. Sorry, Gussie, I have to skedaddle. That's a great word. Skedaddle, skedaddle, skedaddle..." I murmured as I left the café.

I kept frustratedly wondering, as I had been doing for 8 years, why I couldn't be straight. Why I couldn't have a beautiful wife and an even more beautiful little girl. Why everything couldn't just be simple. Why did it have to be Lassie? Of all people, why HIM?

My motorcycle turned a sharp corner. I was on my way to Declan's house to explain my actions. Again, yeah, right! Why do you keep falling for this crap?! That dude needed to lighten up and come to his senses. I was in no way, shape or form obligated to help him. I felt bad about Jules, but any guy that didn't have a sense of humor wasn't good enough for her. I may be gayer than a field of rainbow unicorns, but I know a hot woman when I see one. Hell, if I didn't have it so bad for Lassie, I would date her. She deserves the best. Declan Rand= NOT IT! I pulled up to my apartment building. I climbed up to B23 and found a note:

**Shawn, I'm sorry for punching you. Please call me. It's important. **Jules 3

I smiled. Her signature was the most adorable thing. Right up there with Gus's sneeze (Just kidding! His cough was way more amusing!) and dear Lassieface. I called Jules. She told me to get down to the Psych office immediately.

"It's really important, Shawn. Get over here."


	2. Trapped and Lassified

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.**

Trapped and Lassified

When I arrived at the office, Jules, Gus and Rachael were all waiting outside.

"Shawn!" Jules cried. "You just missed him!

I gave her an inquisitive look. "Him who?"

"The...Mobabojig, of course! He's a killer."

"Um, okay." Lassie pulled up.

"What is he doing here?" We both said at the same time.

"Jinx!" I yelped. When he reached for his gun, Stubby, as I affectionately call him-the gun, not Carlton-Gus explained.

"We were planning to catch the Mathinganim-"

"Mobabojig."

"Whatever. As I was saying, we were going to do that, and then have a celebratory dinner. But we already made dinner..."

Rachael clapped her hands together. "I know! Why shouldn't we eat anyway? It would be a shame to waste the food that we worked so hard on."

We all agreed to enjoy the plentiful dinner. But when we sat down, Jules was taken ill. She left. Then, a few minutes later, Gus and Rachael had a family emergency and had to leave. This was all quite disconcerting. Lassie looked at me strangely.

"Spencer, I'm not eating dinner with you."

"Really? Because your actions say otherwise."

I couldn't believe it. I was having dinner with Carlton Lassiter, and it felt good. He tried the door, but Gus had tampered with the lock so that it could only be opened from the outside. God bless his little cocoa-colored head. I was going to spend the night with Lassie.

**Fun Fact: I made Shawn refer to Lassie's gun as Stumpy because Timothy Omondson (the actor that plays Lassie) calls Lassie's gun Stumpy.**


	3. The Many Schemes Of Shawn

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.**

"Oh, well." I tried to sound disappointed. "I don't have a bed here but there's a couch.

He frowned. "Only one couch?"

"Afraid so."

"Oh, for the love of God, Spencer. I'm not sharing a couch with you."

I shivered in excitement. "Not much of a choice."

"Sleep on the floor."

"No."

"Get the hell out!"

"Impossible."

"Call for help."

"My phone's dead."

"Then...dammit! We have to share the couch."

I sighed. This was going to be a night to remember. He took his tie off and wrapped around his hands like a strangulation device.

I jumped up. "Whoa, Lassiter! Drop the noose!" He obeyed. "If you'll excuse me, I need to freshen up." The minute I closed the bathroom door, I called Gus.

"Thank you! I'm gonna make my move tonight!" Rachel giggled and wished me luck in the background.

"Just don't do anything too exceptionally stupid." Gus said before hanging up. *Sigh* I had the best Gus ever. When I re-entered, Lassie was searching through my extensive movie collection.

"Whatchya looking for?"

"Rosemary's Baby."

"Ooh, ooh, ooh! I have that! Look under A."

"A? Why A?"

"It stands for Awesome."

"What kind of a system is that?"

I laughed at his glorious, sexy bewilderment. "The SJSA system."

"What kind of system is that?"

"Shawn Jonathon Spencer Approved."

He found Rosemary's Baby. I wondered why he had chosen the movie, but said nothing.

As if he read my mind, he explained: "Rosemary reminds me of my neighbor, Rose Marie Farrow, and I enjoy watching her suffer."

I snorted. "Lassie, that's cold." But I had met Rose Marie. Kind of a bitch. We sat on the couch and enjoyed the horrificness of Ms. Woodhouse's issue. We watched in silence. That ending image of Rosemary rocking the baby always gives me shivers. After the movie ended, we sat there awkwardly.

"Lassie, we need to talk."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Just spit it out."

I slowly exhaled. This was it. "I think...I might...I know... I really like you."

He laughed. "Spencer, stop wasting time."

"No, I'm not kidding. I've liked you, erm, loved you since I met you. Please say something."

"Are you screwing with me?"

"No, but I wanna!"

He...laughed? What?

"You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that!"

He kissed me, sliding himself on top of me.


	4. Lassie Love

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.**

**Kind of a short chapter, but I just wanted to update. Enjoy and review!**

"Okay, Lassie. I'm afraid I'm going to accidentally shoot you, so take off the holster." He obeyed and continued to explore my mouth.

"Good Lassie."

"So, what's going on with O'Hara?"

"It's a cover-up relationship."

"What does that mean?"

"We are pretending to be together to cover up for feelings we have for other people."

He frowned. "Who's she after?"

"Gus."

"Seriously?"

"Weird but true."

"Guster doesn't know?"

"Don't tell him."

"What about Declan?"

"That was just kind of a schoolgirl crush. Nothing serious."

Then, I looked out the window. It was morning, and Gus was just pulling up. "Gus is here. Pretend nothing happened. Let's torture him." Lassie nodded eagerly.

Gus walked in, feigning casualness. "Morning. Sorry about locking you guys in here. How did you sleep?"

I pretended to yawn. "Oh, fine. I had to sleep on the floor. Lost 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'." I said with a shrug. Gus gave me a sympathetic look. "How about you, Lassie?"

He smiled. "I slept wonderfully! After you guys left, Spencer and I were out like a light." I almost giggled at the way he was playing with Gus. I had expected Lassie to be a terrible liar, but he was good. _Very_ good.

Gus was fuming. "Shawn, may I see you in the kitchen?"

I smiled innocently and followed him. "Shawn, what happened? You were supposed to hit on him! Did he reject you?"

I nodded, trying not to smile. "Yeah. It was really awkward."

He hugged me. "I'm sorry, buddy. We shouldn't have pushed you into this."

"It's okay. You guys had good intentions."

"Please, let me make it up to you. I'll do chores around here for a while, how's that?"

I grinned. "That would be great. Thanks, bro."

Lassie called in. "I have to go to the station."

"Wait!' I called out. "You forgot your...Apple Jacks!" Yes, Apple Jacks were the first things that popped into my head. Cut me some slack.

I ran into the other room and murmured in his ear: "Meet me in interrogation room B at 10:00."

He nodded. "See you then, Shawn." With that he flounced out. I shivered. Last night went so well! I got some Lassie-play, delicious dinner _and_ Rosemary's Baby. That's one hell of a Wednesday night.


	5. Interrogation Room B

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.**

**This isn't very graphic, but I have to stick to my rating. **

"Hi, Shawn!" Jules said when I came into the police station. "How was last night?"

I bit my lip. "He...he said no. He's straight, I'm gay, nothing either of us can do about it."

She hugged me. "Oh, gosh. I'm really sorry. We totally overstepped our bounds here and now...are you crying?" she mistook my laughter for tears. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'll survive." I thanked her for her concern and headed down to the interrogation rooms. Lassie was waiting patiently in B, just as he promised. I closed and locked the doors.

"The chief thinks I'm on an early lunch. I told her I was having digestive problems, and she cut me off before I needed to make anything else up." He stepped towards me. "What if we get caught?"

I scoffed. "Please. We won't get caught."

"What if you meet someone else?"

"I only have eyes for you." He snorted at the corny line, but continued towards me. "Then let's go." He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. His arms held the small of my back in a way that made me feel so safe. He was warm, but not in a sweating way. In a comforting way.

"This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." I muttered.

"Shut up, Spencer." He discarded his jacket and tie.

"What if Jules comes looking for us?" I moan.

"The door's locked."

I sat on the table, with him still kissing me. He gripped me like I was his lifesaver. I could feel every inch of him just becoming one with me. This was right. This was perfect. Our tongues crashed in perfect harmony. His lips were surprisingly smooth. I hadn't pegged him for a lip-balm kind of guy, but he exceeded expectations. Happiness like I had never felt before coursed through me and I felt alive. He was so passionate, so into it, I almost laughed. The real Lassie was the most adorable, sweet man alive. We lie on the table making out for an hour before he realized that the chief would want him back.

"Shawn, that was incredible. I love you, and I really feel like we fit. So I need to ask you a favor."

I kissed his neck gently. "Anything."

"The inspector found some kind of dangerous dust in my house, and I need to move out for two months. Are you accepting roommates?"

"Only a certain type." 

"What type is that?"

"Well, they have to be strong."

"Of course."

"A cop."

"Obviously."

"And they absolutely _have_ to be the sexiest person alive."

"That's a given. So who am I competing against?"

"My list just cleared up. Congratulations, Detective Lassiter. You just got yourself a roommate."


	6. Roomies

**Disclaimer: I, ShawnLassiter56, do not own Psych or The Breakfast Club. I'm just having some fun with these wonderful characters!**

**This takes place a few days after the last chapter. Lassie is successfully moved into Shawn's apartment, and so far they both love it. I now present to you: Movie Night in the Spenciter Household. **

We settled into the couch for movie night. Lassie had reluctantly agreed to start this Friday night tradition, and I was not going to let him down. It was time to pull out the big guns:

"Let's watch **The Breakfast Club**!" I said. This movie made all who watched it love it, and it would turn movie night into a permanent ritual.

"But PBS is airing a special on guns through the ages!" He whined.

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Lassie. You can TiVo it and watch it tomorrow. **The Breakfast Club** is on Netflix. Let's do that." I put it on. He curled up against me, his surprisingly small feet on my lap.

"I love you, Carlton Lassiter."

"And I love you, Shawn Spencer."

O00oo00oo00O

"Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club." Bender intoned as the credits started to roll. Lassie and I let out the breath we had been holding.

"That was...that was good." He said, trying to sound nonchalant.

I laughed. "Oh, you loved it!"

"Well, a little."

"Don't lie, Lassie."

"I'm not lying."

"Tell the truth!"

"I am...I loved it."

"Thank you!"

We laughed together. At first, living together had been awkward. He had worked so hard building a wall around his heart, breaking it was no small feat. But once I cracked into his sweet, loopy sense of humor and his open and easygoing soft side, nothing was awkward. We had finally found happiness. We weren't sure when we were going to let Jules and Gus and Rachel in on their success. They had given us happiness; the least we could do was tell them.

"When are we going to tell them?" I asked.

"Tomorrow." He said decidedly. "I'm tired of not telling anybody about us."

"Alright, Detective Lassiter! I didn't think that would be so easy! While you're in a good mood: Have you ever heard of couples' yoga?"

He gave me a look and then laughed. "No, Shawn."

"But why?"

"Because it's gay."

"That's why I think we should do it. We'd fit in."

He laughed. "Spencer, you're incorrigible."

"Okay."

"You have no idea what that means, do you?"

"Well, duh. It means: One who is wonderfully sexy beyond one's wildest dreams." He snorted.

My phone started ringing. "It's Jules." I said before answering it.

"Shawn, you and Lassiter need to be at the station pronto. You have a lot of explaining to do."


	7. A Case for Halloween

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.**

**The plot thickens! Sorry if this is short, but I'm sick, so give me a break.**

"Detectives, please come in." Chief Vick said somberly when we walked into the station. She motioned for us to sit in her office.

"How long have you been living together?" She asked.

I struggled to lie on the spot. "We aren't living together! What, me and Lassie? He would have shot me by now. Come on, Chief." I tried to keep my voice light. Something was wrong.

"Mr. Spencer, perhaps you have forgotten; I am the Chief of Police. I'm smarter than you think. I need you to tell me the truth."

Carlton spoke before me. "Yes, we're living together, yes, we're dating, no, there's nothing you can do about it."

She looked taken aback. "Okay. O'Hara received a phone call tipping us off about a relationship, and instructing you two to do something."

"Tap dance among monkeys? Sing an arpeggio in a rainforest?"

"None of the above. He wants you to spend Halloween in a haunted house with him."

"What?"

"They have created the ultimate haunted house. He has set up obstacles and distractions throughout. If you find them, they will go to jail willingly. But if they find you first...you won't leave alive. They specifically requested you two. Are you up for it?"

"Of course. But we need more detail." Lassie said.

"We don't know anything. We told you everything he said on the call, and that's all we know. I'm sorry that you have to be in the situation, but he's promised that he'll go on a killing spree if you don't show. Here's the address."

She hands us a piece of paper. "13 Harrison Street. I drive by there every day! It's supposedly haunted by Veronica Nicastro. She was an old spinster who lived there until she was murdered in '92. I think the case went unsolved. Is this a man or a woman?" Carlton said.

"A woman."

"I knew it. Another sly, conniving ice queen."

"Hey!" Jules squeaked from the corner.

"Oh, sorry, O'Hara." He said gruffly.

This whole situation was worrying me. How did a complete stranger know about my newfound Shassie-ship? Nothing about this was sitting with me right, and I could tell Carton felt the same way.

"Do we need costumes?" I asked.

The Chief, surprisingly, nodded. "She said to wear costumes, strangely enough."

"What kind of costumes?"

She shrugged. "She wasn't specific. Will you be ready by tomorrow?"

Carlton nodded firmly. "As we'll ever be."


	8. Life on a Tightrope

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.**

**Warning: This might get kind of sick or maybe a little gross. (If blood freaks you out, this is to be skipped!)**

"Guys, are you sure about this?" Jules whispered over the radio.

"Jules, it's okay. We'll fine." I murmured. "We're Shawn and Lassie! The dynamic duo! Don't worry."

She sighed. "Alright. You can go in."

Lassie took my hand as we walked through the creaking double doors. No matter how hard he tried to suppress his fear, he was as transparent as butter. I gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"We're in, O'Hara." He called over the system.

The Chief's voice came into our ears. "Proceed with caution. Keep in touch. If either of you is taken down, we'll send snipers in. Got it?"

"Yep."

"Then investigate."

He started in. We were in a tiled foyer. It was huge, but corroded. It was decorated with spurts of blood. A voice came from, seemingly, nowhere.

"Welcome, Shawn and Carlton. Or, should I say, Shassie? Nice of you to come. The first event is in the master bedroom. Have fun!"

"Shall we?" I tried to lighten the mood.

"We shall."

We walked up the stairs cautiously. Portraits of beautiful women lined the stairwell. They were all very different. There was a redhead wearing pearls and not much else. Judging from the little PLAYBOY written in the corner, it was a magazine clipping. There was also a portrait of a brunette in a green evening gown. Her eyes were a piercing black. There was also a painting of a woman who, if I wasn't mistaken, was Mary Queen of Scots.

"This woman had some bizarre tastes." Lassie mused.

"Says the man with a wanted wall in his own home." I shot back.

We shared a brief tiff before we advanced.

"Here it is." I whispered when we reached the master bedroom. "Are you ready?"

He licked his lips. "Let's do this."

We charged in. We were greeted by a tightrope that ran over a vat of what appeared to be boiling blood. There was no getting around the blood, as he had filled the entire center of the room with the stuff. A recording was triggered when we entered.

"Greetings, Detectives. You will each have 30 seconds from the time your foot hits the rope to when you make it out the window. Shawn, please go first. Oh, and yes. It's real blood."

I inhaled sharply. "This is like Carrie, which makes you William Katt and me Sissy Spacek."

"Whatever, Spencer." He had begun to tremble slightly.

I mounted the wire. It led out an open window. A mysterious female voice started counting down my seconds.

I put my left foot out, testing the bounciness of the rope. It bounced easily and deep. I almost went into the blood. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lassie instinctively reach out to catch me. I regained my balance and continued forward. I didn't want to fall in. the trembling in my legs was starting to worry me, and I couldn't see straight. About halfway across, I lost my footing. I caught myself, but it was so close. Too close. Carlton voice cried out, and I could hear the nerves in his voice.

"Shawn, please be careful. Please."

"It's okay, Carlton. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay." I started a mantra in my head. "I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay." I made it out the window. It led into a pitch black courtyard.

"Drop, Shawn." A voice commanded. "Drop."

I knew what it wanted me to do. I closed my eyes and dropped into the darkness.

**Oooh! It's a cliff hanger! Please review! (And remember: Shawn's life is in my hands *Evil cackle*) **


	9. Lucy in the Fluff with Diamonds

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.**

The wind rushed around my head as I dropped. It was cold outside, and my teeth were chattering incessantly. The drop felt like it lasted for and eternity. She wouldn't kill me this early in the game, I knew that, so why was I dropping into a courtyard? Then...fluff. Everywhere, all around me. It was warm, but not hot.

"Is this death?" I mutter into the fuzz.

A recording answered me. "Welcome to the Suffocation Chamber. Nice name, isn't it?" She chuckled. "Any who, here's the story. There's a button somewhere in this room. When this button is pressed, you will be released. Carlton is doing the same challenge in the next room over. If you haven't noticed, there is no air in here. It's completely full of wool. Don't forget, I'm right on your tail. Hurry up, Psychic."

I could feel my lungs reaching for nonexistent air. I swam through the sea of fuzz and groped for something. Anything. No air. Must breathe. Help me.

O00oo00oo00O

I think straight can't anymore even. I no scream sound out come. Hands around feel walls. Found! Found! I button slap. Door open, out walk. I gasp for air in this strange territory. My John Bender costume is drenched in sweat from the wool. When I open my eyes, I am in a traditional haunted house. Then I cry out. Sitting on a box to my right is Detective Carlytown Lassie-face. He is staring around mindlessly. When he sees me he jumps on me and hugs me fiercely.

"Damn it, Spencer. I thought you were dead." He growled.

"Me too." I muttered. "Did you get a recording yet?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

A voice crackled into being, but this time it wasn't electronic. "Shawnie, Lassie, where are you?" A singsong female voice called from a stairwell a few feet away.

Our eyes locked for an instant before we took off. We sprinted through the house while Carlton murmured bunch of codes into the radio.

"O'Hara, send SWAT in. She's right behind us, so find her using the tracking device on me...what the hell do you mean, you're not picking me up?! O'Hara! O'Hara? She's gone." He said. "The signal's dead and so is my GPS. Keep running."

"This...is...one...damn big...house." I panted. And it was. We ran down hall after hall, room after room, but no end came. I knew I was running out steam, but nothing matters when a crazy-lady psycho is chasing you. I scanned my mind. How could I distract her? Then, I got it. Use someone she could relate to. More specifically, the original psycho. I grabbed Carlton and hid in an alcove with him.

"Norman!" I screeched in my best Norman Bates impression. "Don't you give that girl _my_ food! Norman!"

A high, feminine voice answered. "Who's there? Shawnie, Lassie, where did you go? Come out and play, boys. Come on. Don't be shy. Don't make me come and find you. You know what that means, don't you? I get to do whatever I want with my darling gaybies. Haha. Hahahahaha!" she laughed maniacally.

I whispered into Lassie's ear. "Okay, give me one of your guns. Just do it." He obeyed. "Now the handcuffs." He reluctantly handed them over. "On 7, you run out and distract her. I'll sneak up behind and cuff her. Once we have her we'll take it from there."

"Why 7?"

"I like even numbers."

"It's not—never mind. Let's just go." He ran out in front of her.

"Carly!" She shrieked. "You startled me. Where's Spencer?"

Then, to my astonishment, Carlton Lassiter began to do the can-can. "Camp town racers sing this song, doo da, doo da..."

I crept up behind her. She was a brunette, about 5'7, and approx. 25. She was wearing a wedding gown. In a mirror on the other side of her, I could see through the bodice of the dress which revealed liposuction and a boob job. My guess is an ex-prostitute. The bitch was certifiable. I crept closer and closer and snapped the cuffs on. "You're under arrest, Sandbags!"

She sighed contentedly. "This is nice." She flipped over so I was straddling her. "Very nice."

I sprang off her, still gripping the cuffs. "Let's go."


	10. Look What You Made Me Do

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.**

**Hello, my lovelies! Sorry about the distance between updates, but life is busy, plus, I'm working on a new 30 Rock fic called Secrets (please check it out)! Enjoy and review! **

The voice was crystal clear, but when I turned my head, no one was there. I knew she had been there, but Renaldo's psycho/ex-prostitute population was at an all-time low.

Jules skipped back. "Shawn, it's so cute back there! Seriously, check it out..." She started hauling me to the back room. I couldn't help but smile when I saw it. Of course Jules loved it. The only color in sight was hot pink.

"I love it. Sorry, sweetheart, I think I need to head home. Migraines, you know."

She nodded sympathetically. "Sure. More pizza for me! But, seriously, call if you need anything."

"I will. Bye, hon." I hugged her before stepping out into the pouring rain. I sprinted out to my bike. It was gonna be a long ride home.

O00oo00oo00O

I found Carlton munching on granola in the kitchen.

"Oh, hi, Shawn. How's O'Hara?"

"Perky, as usual. Why're you up?"

He shrugged. "I forgot how much I hated sleeping alone. Every time I finally drifted off, I would have a nightmare. I just decided to give up."

I took his hand. "You aren't alone anymore. Bedtime?"

He nodded eagerly. "Yes, please."

O00oo00oo00O

As we lay there, I felt a chill. It was like my insides had frozen over. Then, I heard it.

"I warned you. Now look what you made me do."

What I say before me was...beyond description.


End file.
